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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386488">The Sunsets Are Prettier In Santa Fe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daleks_Demigods_and_Dementors/pseuds/Daleks_Demigods_and_Dementors'>Daleks_Demigods_and_Dementors</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Character Death, Crutchie gets sick, Crutchie is sunshine in human form, Davey POV, Davey might be in love with Jack if you squint idk, I can't tell if the ending is sad or anticlimactic, I cried 5 times while I was writing this, Jack and Katherine share an apartment, No official relationships, Post-Strike, boys allowed to cry, don't read unless you're prepared for tears, just sadness, please let boys cry, relationship neutral, relationships up to interpretation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:48:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386488</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daleks_Demigods_and_Dementors/pseuds/Daleks_Demigods_and_Dementors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>First, it was his leg. He already couldn’t use it to support himself, but it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t feel it at all. Katherine quietly paid to have him get it amputated. It was hard for him—and for all of us, to see him go through it—but we knew it needed to be done. We’d heard of things like this happening across the pond, where one day it’s a leg, the next day it’s an arm, and eventually…<br/>We didn’t want it to happen to him. We had to stop it spreading as soon as we could. He understood. We’d take care of him, all of us.<br/>But there’s no need to worry for Crutchie, we thought. He’s a tough kid; whatever this is, he’ll beat it.<br/>But in less than a month, he toppled over in the middle of a work day.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Sunsets Are Prettier In Santa Fe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I own none of the characters, they all belong to Newsies.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things were good for a long time after the strike. A lot of boys had it really good. Everyone had their pay go up, though some only marginally. The Union miraculously stayed together, even when Jack left to draw political cartoons for the <em> World. </em> For a long time, we had it better than we’d ever been before.</p><p>And then Crutchie got sick.</p><p>First, it was his leg. He already couldn’t use it to support himself, but it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t feel it at all. Katherine quietly paid to have him get it amputated. It was hard for him—and for all of us, to see him go through it—but we knew it needed to be done. We’d heard of things like this happening across the pond, where one day it’s a leg, the next day it’s an arm, and eventually…</p><p>We didn’t want it to happen to him. We had to stop it spreading as soon as we could. He understood. We’d take care of him, all of us.</p><p><em> But there’s no need to worry for Crutchie, </em> we thought. <em> He’s a tough kid; whatever this is, he’ll beat it. </em></p><p>But in less than a month, he toppled over in the middle of a work day. Jack wasn’t around, so he just laid there for hours until someone found him. Jack and Racetrack had to carry him home. He screamed and cried all night, terrified the Bulls would show up and drag him back to the Refuge. Jack promised him, never again. He would never, ever, as long as the name Jack Kelley still had life in its breath, let them take Crutchie away again. He sat with him all night, both of their terrified jabberings rolling over each other until Crutchie passed out from exhaustion. I didn’t have the heart to interrupt them, to remind them the Refuge was shut down years ago. I don’t think it would have mattered.</p><p>Jack took him back to his and Kath’s apartment the next day, so he could keep watch on him.</p><p>“You’s my brudduh,” he said. “You ain’t sleepin’ on the street no more.”</p><p>But Crutchie was a stubborn boy. Even with Jack around to get him whatever he needed at a moment’s notice, all he ever wanted to do was get up and walk around. He fell before he even got away from the couch. Every time. And every time, Jack would come running, pick him up, and scold him.</p><p>“Crutchie, ya can’t do things like this. Ya gotta wait till you’s got ya strength back.”</p><p>And every time, he would turn on his old playful grin, and say, “Don’t worry, Jeck. I’ll be up an’ at ‘em in no time.”</p><p>But he just kept getting worse. Jack came to me one afternoon with tears in his eyes, blubbering and wild in panic, tripping all over himself. The only coherent word I picked out was “Crutchie!” But I knew.</p><p>I wrapped him in a tight hug, and let him collapse into me. He just sobbed, it raked over the sounds of passing Manhattan for what felt like hours before he could finally breathe free again. I clung onto him still, so he could feel my words coming from my chest. “It’s not your fault,” I heard myself say. “You shouldn’t have taken this on alone, you never should have.”</p><p>He starts to pull away, to fight me back with both body and voice. “But he’s my brudduh, I can’t just—”</p><p>“I know.” I get ahold of his arms as he starts to wriggle out from beneath mine, and despite his hurt and confusion he still leans into my touch as a grounding. I knew his whole world must be spinning, so I refused to let go until he let me finish. “I mean don’t take this on <em> alone</em>. We can help you take care of him. The others should...” I can’t tell whether I was searching for the right words or if I choked up. I suppose both. “The others should get to see him. We’re all worried about him.”</p><p>Jack’s breathing had calmed down again, so I gently pulled him back in for another hug. He didn’t fight, just curled into me like a helpless bird. Which, I suppose, he probably felt like at the time.</p><p>“What happened, Jack?”</p><p>Without letting go of me, he explained in shaky breaths: “I’d just... just stepped out to turn in some drawings for the <em> World</em>. He was sleepin’ an’ I knew I wouldn’t be gone that long, but... when I got back, he was face-down on the floor, all sweaty-like, and I couldn’t... I didn’t know how long he’d been there, an’ I got scared. I can’t leave ‘im alone no more, I’d never know—”</p><p>When his voice broke again, I hugged him tighter. “We can bring him back to the Lodging House. You an’ me, today. The boys will all take care of him, he’ll never be alone. What do you say?”</p><p>I felt his head nod on my shoulder, and I let him slip from my arms.</p><p>“Is Kath with him now?”</p><p>He nodded again, wiping tears from his eyes.</p><p>“Okay, she can help us,” I offered gently. “Let’s go.”</p><p>I dropped all my unsold papers by the sidewalk with my bag, giving them no second thought. I let Jack lead me up to his apartment, where Katherine was waiting couch-side by a sleeping Crutchie. She looked up on our arrival, but didn’t say a word. Her eyes said it all. The worry, the fear, the sleepless nights were all written on her face.</p><p>I let Jack kneel by his brother’s side as she followed me out of earshot.</p><p>“We’re taking him to the Lodging House,” I explained. “The boys will want to see him, and he’ll never have to be alone.”</p><p>She nodded, wiping away a single tear, and looking back at him and Jack. I could tell the weariness had gotten to them both. Taking care of a sick kid... it’s not easy to do, especially when you’re basically still a kid yourself.</p><p>We carefully walked back to the couch where we saw Crutchie had woken up. Jack had sung him awake with one of his favorite tunes. Jack had always had an entrancing voice, whether it was calling for a hundred boys to go on strike, or singing a lullaby to a crying child.</p><p>Despite the events so far that day, Crutchie smiled bright as ever. “It appears we have ourselves a visitor,” he said, looking up at me as I approached. “Well well, if it isn’t King David himself, come to grace us with his delightful smile.”</p><p>I grinned at the use of the nickname. He’d taken to calling me ‘King David’ after I took on the mantle of union president. It was much kinder than the one the rest of the boys called me, which was ‘Mouth’. They seem to think I do a lot of over-explaining. I call it ‘clarifying details for the nitwits’, but, to each their own.</p><p>Then again, Crutchie had always been kinder than the other boys. It was one of the many reasons we all loved him so much.</p><p>Jack explained that we wanted to bring him back to the Lodging House with the other boys, to which Crutchie immediately put on a face of betrayal. It was heartbreaking to see the kid; he looked like Jack had just said they’d throw him out on the street.</p><p>“Why you gotta do that?” he protested. “I’m fine, I’m fine here. We’re good, ain’t we?”</p><p>“Listen, Crutch...” I heard Jack’s voice squeak, knowing he was about to explain that, no Crutchie, we can’t take care of you here, Kath and I aren’t enough to take care of you anymore. I couldn’t imagine how either of them must be feeling, and I didn’t want to. In guilt, I forced myself to zone out. I just couldn’t find it in myself to listen to what came next.</p><p>Eventually, Crutchie agreed to go. He admitted to missing the other Newsies, but the way he mumbled it out made me think his heart wasn’t totally in it. He wanted to be here, with Jack. He didn’t want to be a burden on anyone else, or let anyone else see him so weak.</p><p>We got him back to the Lodging House relatively painlessly. The second they saw us, the handful of boys that were milling around—likely having already sold their last paper for the day—ran to set up one of the few unbunked beds for him.</p><p>He spent no more than a few weeks in the Lodging House, each of the boys taking turns to spend the day with him instead of selling, before a little color started to return to his face. With all the boys pouring every extra penny into feeding and taking care of him, it seemed, for a beautiful moment in time, that he might actually get better. He joked once that as soon as he could sit up by himself, it would be over for the other Newsies; he’d get all the papes coming right to him, and he’d be rich as a king by the end of the week. The other boys laughed with glee, without a hint of hopelessness. He was still the same old Crutchie, just an extra leg short. I saw the room light up like he’d brought the sun down to shine right inside the room with us. All the boys adored him, everybody did, everyone he ever met. But I couldn’t bring myself to play along for more than a moment, not when he looked so pitiful lying on the bed.</p><p>Then, it was like a light switch had turned. We woke up one day to find that the Crutchie we had sent to bed, overnight had become a different figure entirely... pale skin, sweating like it was the middle of the summer, yet chilled to the bone. Specs ran to get Jack, who started sleeping with us again from then on. He sat by Crutchie’s side all day long, telling him stories and singing to him when he was awake, painting and drawing when he was asleep. We all loved Jack’s stories, but Crutchie most of all.</p><p>From then, it was only a matter of days. He slept most of the day, and even when he was awake, he could barely speak, but when he did, it was always with that same upturned grin, and gentle, yet playful demeanor. The future never haunted him, even for a moment. Or if it did, he never showed it. I almost could have envied him.</p><p>The other boys, when they weren’t playing around with Crutchie, avoided Jack and I. I could tell they didn’t know how to approach us, and they didn’t want to disturb Jack, who could only pretend he wasn’t already grieving for so long. It was Racetrack that finally broke the silence, coming up to me one night while everyone else was getting ready to hit the hay.</p><p>“Hey Davey,” he called gently, which was the first sign. Racer is many things, but gentle has never been one of them. I nodded, and we walked out of earshot of the others. Their eyes followed us all the way to the other side of the room. I could tell they were all wondering the same thing, so it was no surprise when he asked me: “Be honest... how long d’ya think he’s got?”</p><p>The doctor had been in a few times to see him, but we couldn’t afford to pay for visits anymore. I’d told him as much at the end of the last visit, when he pulled me aside just like Racer was doing.</p><p>“Good,” the doc had said. “You boys shouldn’t be wasting this kind of money on me. What little hope I could give ya isn’t worth the price.”</p><p>I knew what that meant. There was nothing left any doctor in New York could do for him. It was up to us now, to see him to the end.</p><p>It had been over a week since then.</p><p>“I’m no doc,” I said to Race, “but I’d say a matter of days.”</p><p>Race just sighed and turned away, wiping a hand over his mouth. “Ya know I was really hopin’...” he started, but he couldn’t find it in himself to finish.</p><p>
  <em> I was really hoping he could get better. </em>
</p><p>That’s what he wanted to say.</p><p>
  <em> I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to give the guys bad news. I was really hoping you wouldn’t let us down, Dave. I was really hoping your stupid school education could have helped us out, here, Dave. </em>
</p><p>“I know,” is all I could think to say in response. “Me too.”</p><p>As he walked away, I saw him shake his head to the others, who had been watching us. They all slumped over, any remaining hope they’d had leaving them completely. My heart sank in my chest at the sight. Selfishly, all I could think about was how much I wanted all this to be over. All the pain—for us and for him—I just wanted it to end.</p><p>It was two days later that we heard it. His breathing, uneven and labored. Even he knew by now, his strength was going, and fast. We never really told him what we feared, we tried to keep up smiles and hopes while we were around him, but I think a part of him started to figure it out by then.</p><p>“Jeck?” he called, so soft we almost didn’t hear. He hadn’t spoken in days.</p><p>“Yeah, Crutch?” Jack smiled at him, taking his hand. “You want a story?”</p><p>The words came out in a low rasp. “Tell me about Santa Fe?”</p><p>Jack took a slow breath. No one had talked much about Santa Fe since the strike ended. Jack had given up on that dream once he decided to stay with us. But as I held my breath, I remembered Crutchie confiding in me, not too long after the strike had been settled, that at one point Jack had promised to take him there. ‘A few months of clean air,’ he’d said, ‘maybe you could toss that crutch for good.’ And something about sunsets, that they had a certain effect on folks. That was always the hope, that Jack’s dream, which over time had become Crutchie’s dream, would be able to heal him. But that clock had run out a long time ago.</p><p>So there was Jack, staring down at his brother, who was asking him to tell one last story. Let him live in that dream for one last moment.</p><p>“Sure, Crutchy. Sure I can.”</p><p>I could see the cogs in his head starting to spin, coming to life in the way I’ve seen dozens of times, but not about this. Never about this; Santa Fe was far too personal for me or any of the other Newsies to hear about, but it didn’t matter now. It wasn’t for us, it was for him.</p><p>“Ya take the train out west,” Jack began. “They don’t got no trolleys or carriages ta take ya out there, an’ a train goes so fast, ya won’t know you’s there till you’s right on top of it. The first thing you notice is the people. All big smiles an’ warm hugs. Everything they got, they’s ready to share. House, food, family. An’ you can tell, right away, ya feels at home. The second thing ya notice is the smell. All clean, fresh air, like the wide open space just fills ya lungs.” Jack closed his eyes and breathed deeply, mimicking the moment. Crutchie did the same, as best he could before he wound up coughing. Jack quickly continued his story as a distraction, but I could hear the fear start to creep into his voice. There was a lining of urgency, and I think the others could feel it, too.</p><p>I went to place my hand on his shoulder, to slow him down. It was incredibly tense, more so than usual, which was saying a lot for Jack.</p><p>There’s a lot weighing on those shoulders, all the time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him truly relaxed. Even when he’s playful and flirtatious, if you listen closely enough, you can always hear the part of him that worries. About himself, about the boys, about everyone and everything.</p><p>Jack looked up at me, searching for the right words. He didn’t have to ask it out loud, I knew those eyes.</p><p>“The sunsets,” I offered, “are the most beautiful in the whole world.”</p><p>“Nothin’ like the boring ol’ New York ones,” Jack added, laughing. “My penthouse don’t hold a candle to Santa Fe. Ya hop on a trusty horse, an’ ride right out t’da ocean, justa watch the sun go down.” He took a moment to breathe, clearing his throat to cover up a sniffle. “You should see it. I’ll take ya there sometime when... when you’s all better. Just...” his breath wavered as he took his brother’s hand, “you get better, a’right?”</p><p>A little light came back into Crutchie’s eyes when he heard Jack say that. In an instant, he turned on his old playful grin, but he only had the strength to get halfway there. There was sunshine in his eyes, and his smile, but the rest of him seemed… dim.</p><p>That moment, I think that’s when it finally felt real to me. That half-finished smile, the light refusing to go out. Yet the sight was distorted by the surrounding features. He was too pale, too clammy, too unfocused. We knew, then, that whatever he had to say, we should listen while we still could.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Jeck," he said weakly. "I’ll be up an’ at ‘em in no time.”</p><p>Jack chuckled, despite himself. “Yeah, buddy. Yeah, you will be.” He forced the words out through his even-farther-forced grin, desperately willing them to be true.</p><p>Then Crutchie’s breath began to slow. We all watched, holding our breaths, holding each other, holding out hope for maybe, maybe one more moment. Then he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, still holding onto his brother’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>We held the funeral two days later. We had been making arrangements for a while, and considering there were no folks to call that didn’t already know, it was easy to do it so soon.</p><p>Newsies came from all over New York... Brooklynn, Bronx, Richmond, everyone who striked with us... even some faces I didn’t recognize. They all stopped their day, stopped their selling, to come take a moment with us. He meant a lot, to everyone. There even were folks in the crowd that stopped for a moment that I knew couldn’t have been Newsies. Older men, women, folks in nicer clothes. They stopped to stare in hushed voices, bowed heads. “That smiley boy with the crutch?” and “Poor kid” and “Too soon” rippled through the doors at the back of the church.</p><p>By the time I made it outside, later that afternoon, the street seemed grayer, muted. I saw folks looking at me... their eyes were heavy. They knew. They knew him, and they knew me, and they knew what happened.</p><p>It all seemed to spin, like all of a sudden I was on display. I wanted to throw up. I was exhausted and grieving and all these people could think to do was stare, as if any of them were going to remember this tomorrow. As if any of them could really grieve as if they knew him. At the very least, they could leave me alone to think in peace, but they couldn’t even do that. So just as the world started spinning beneath me, I dropped everything and ran. I ran to the only place in the world I thought I could be alone.</p><p>As I climbed the fire escape, the only thing I could think about was how desperately I wanted to be alone. The tears were already streaming down, and I didn’t want anybody to see their leader like this. So absolutely hopeless and lost. I was the guy everyone turned to when they needed a clear head. Jack, Racer, Les, all the boys... it was my job to stay on top of things for them. I was the guy in control. They trusted me to be in control, as the head of the union. As their friend, their example. Losing control like this was unheard of for me. It felt like a betrayal. But at that moment, climbing the fire escape, rising higher and higher above the city as the sun began to dip behind me, I didn't care. I lost all control and I didn't give a damn, because there's only so much a guy can take on his shoulders before it becomes too heavy to bear, and for me, this was it.</p><p> </p><p>I get pulled out of my thoughts when I see a figure standing above me. I debate for a moment whether I should go back down, but my body betrays my mind, pulling me up the rest of the way to the penthouse almost magnetically.</p><p>Jack looks over at me. We don’t say a word to each other. I should have known he would beat me here, it’s his place after all.</p><p>I move to his side, and for a moment I can see the cowboy-convict boy-wonder Jack Kelley, that I led a strike with only a few years ago; nothing like the artist business man that works for the <em> World </em> today. For a moment, I see the boy that became a man too soon, who took a little cripple boy under his wing and became a big brother and provider too soon, who had big dreams of a good, small, honest life that got crushed too soon. I can see the trails where tears have been rolling down his face.</p><p>For a moment, I wonder what he sees when he looks back at me.</p><p>I reach for my tie and release it the rest of the way from my neck. I can’t quite remember loosening it, but I’m sure I did it for a moment to breathe as I was running here. This is the first time I’ve worn one since my first week as a Newsie. It used to be part of my school uniform, but by the time my father healed enough to go back to work, I was already solidly at the head of the Newsies’ Union, and there was no point in finishing up my last year. I hadn’t had to put on a tie since then. It still doesn’t feel quite right.</p><p>Jack is still looking at me. Not in a hostile way, but in a comfortable way. He’s waiting for me to say something.</p><p>I want to say... I don’t know. There are too many things I want to say.</p><p>
  <em> He deserved better. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’s in a better place now. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I miss him. I miss you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> How are you holding up? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I came because I thought I’d find a piece of him here, left behind, but I already know I was wrong. Is that why you’re here? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Do you think he can see us now? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Do you think he misses us? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Do you think we’ll ever stop missing him? I don’t think I will. </em>
</p><p>I breathe. “Do you really think the sunsets are prettier in Santa Fe?”</p><p>I turn away from Jack to watch the sun, now setting over the horizon.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he admits, voice shaking from exhaustion. “But Crutchie does.”</p><p>I look at him. He doesn’t look back at me, just keeps staring off into the sky, which has turned to a deep purple color since I started climbing the ladder.</p><p>Jack’s voice is solid when he speaks again. “I bet he’s there now, waiting for us. Don’cha think?”</p><p>My head swims for a minute. I lean into Jack, not knowing what else to do. He leans into me, too.</p><p>I nod, pulling myself together just long enough to squeak out: “Yeah. Yeah, I bet he is.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks everyone for reading! Please let me know in kudos and comments what you thought of it! This is my first one-shot on AO3, my first Newsies fic, and only my second fanfic ever posted. I don't really have beta readers so I would love yall to tell me what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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